GUISES OF THE MIND

by Rebecca Neason

  “But, Captain, in light of the change in the King’s attitude—”

  Picard held up his hand and silenced his First Officer. “Enough, Will. Thank you for your concern, but it is unnecessary. You are a skilled commander and no one doubts your abilities. However, the King’s recent words make the diplomatic aspect of this mission more important than ever. I have had more experience at treaty negotiations and that alone requires that I lead this Away Team.”

  “At least let me assign a security team to you.”

  The captain shook his head. “A security team might be interpreted as an insult against the government. I cannot take that chance. Now, if there is nothing further, Counselor Troi and I have a matter to discuss.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Riker said a little stiffly. He turned on his heel and left the ready room. When the door slid shut, the captain met Troi’s eyes.

  “Sometimes,” he said, and Troi could feel his patient amusement, “I think Commander Riker forgets I have led more than a few Away Teams in the course of my career.”

  Picard indicated that Troi should take a seat while he called Data over the comm link. “Mr. Data,” he said, “what is our ETA to Capulon IV?”

  “At our present speed, eight days, seventeen hours, twelve minutes.”

  “If we increase speed to warp seven?”

  Data’s pause was almost indiscernible. “Twenty-two hours, nine minutes.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Data. Make it so.” Picard came over and took a seat next to Troi on the small sofa his office contained.

  “Now, Counselor,” he said, turning to face her, “I would like you to accompany me to the planet. I believe I will have need of your special insight. Since the King requested that the Little Mothers come to Capulon IV, I also think Mother Veronica should also accompany us. What is her condition?”

  “She is very upset,” Troi replied. “I couldn’t get any more information from her than what she told us on the bridge.”

  “How are your sessions with her coming?”

  “She has learned to use very rudimentary shields, but I’m not certain that will be enough.”

  “I feel it is imperative that we arrive at Capulon IV as quickly as possible. Is there any more you can do for her in the next hours?”

  “I don’t know, Captain. I can try, but it depends on Mother Veronica.”

  “Explain.”

  Troi shifted a little in her seat and crossed her legs. “In order to make any progress in so short a time,” Troi said, “we will have to forgo formal lessons. I will have to pour a great deal of information directly into Mother Veronica’s mind. You saw how upset she was, and there are other matters she still has not resolved. These are upsetting her, as well. I don’t know if she will be willing, or able, to allow me the depth of telepathic link I will need.”

  “If you are not successful, will she be in any condition to go to the planet with us?”

  “I believe she will go regardless of her personal feelings, Captain,” Troi said. “That is why she is here, and Mother Veronica has a very strong sense of duty.”

  “Please devote as much time to her as you can,” the captain said. “Her presence could be important in our negotiations with the King.”

  At that moment, Joakal I’lium, true King of Capulon IV, lay curled into a fetal position in the corner of his cell. He had not moved in hours; he had barely eaten in days. His captivity was slowly eroding his strength. Each time Beahoram came to taunt him, Joakal found himself less able to fight off his depression. Beahoram had everything—he had Elana. This thought twisted round and round in Joakal’s brain, draining the hope and the life out of him.

  This time Joakal did not bother to move when he heard the key turn in the lock. What was the use? It was only his brother coming to gloat, to remind Joakal of all he had lost. Joakal pulled himself more tightly into a ball and ignored the sound of approaching footsteps.

  A boot prodded him in the back. “Sit up,” Beahoram ordered. Joakal ignored him. The boot came again, harder this time. Joakal suppressed a grunt as it connected with the tender area of his spine.

  “Sit up I said, or I’ll drag you up.”

  Slowly, Joakal uncurled. He turned over and pulled himself up until he was sitting with his back wedged into the corner of the cell.

  Beahoram was not alone this time. Aklier was with him. Unable to bear looking at the triumphant sneer on his brother’s face, Joakal fixed his attention on the Elder. The few times Aklier had come to the cell, he had not said a word. He had completed his errand and left as quickly as possible. But today, Aklier’s eyes met Joakal’s with an expression of shock and regret. Maybe today, Joakal thought, he’ll tell me why he has betrayed me.

  “You haven’t eaten, Brother,” Beahoram said, his voice breaking the momentary sympathy between Joakal and the Elder. “I can’t allow that. You might die while I still have use for you. I’ll warn you once—either you eat on your own or I will force the food down you myself. Do you understand?”

  Joakal nodded. “What is it you want?” he asked in a tired voice.

  “I don’t want anything, Brother. I thought you would want the latest news. I spoke with the captain of the Federation starship today. They’ll be here in time for my coronation. But I’m not going to sign their treaty. There’s another of your dreams gone, Brother.”

  Joakal raised his head and finally met his brother’s eyes. They stared at each other for a few seconds. Then Joakal slowly shook his head.

  “My dreams,” he said. “What can you possibly understand of my dreams or of my life?”

  Beahoram’s eyes narrowed. His lips drew into a tight line before he spoke.

  “Oh, I know your life,” he said. “You have sat here in your palace with your servants waiting on your every whim, surrounded by luxury most people can’t even imagine.”

  Joakal studied his brother’s face, undaunted now by its likeness to his own, and he nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “I do live in a palace. But that’s all you see, isn’t it? You look at the clothes and the furnishings, and you think that’s the life of a King. Well it’s not.”

  Joakal slowly rose to his feet. He felt his own anger mounting. This was not the sudden burst of rage he had felt when Beahoram told him about Elana, a burst that soon burned itself out and left despair in its ash. This was a steady flame that gave heat to his soul and strength to his words.

  “You say you saw your father work himself to death,” Joakal continued. “Well so did I. I saw my father—our father—work and worry every day of his reign. His thoughts were always on doing what was best for the people the God had given him to govern. This power you crave isn’t a gift. It’s a weight. It’s a responsibility, and it’s as much a life of Service as that lived at the temple.”

  Beahoram snorted with laughter and Joakal realized his brother had not understood or believed a word he had said.

  “Are you willing to give up any thought about a life of your own, Beahoram?” Joakal tried again. “That’s what happens when you take the crown.”

  “A life of my own,” Beahoram shouted. “What has having a life of my own ever given me?”

  “It has given you the same chances it gives everyone.”

  “You’re wrong,” Beahoram snapped. “It has given me nothing. Well that’s over. It’s all mine now. You’re very good at speeches, but none of your pretty words are going to rob me of my turn.”

  Beahoram turned on his heel and left. After a brief hesitation, Aklier also turned.

  “Wait—Aklier, please,” Joakal called after him. Slowly the Elder turned back around.

  “Please, Aklier, tell me—how is Elana?” Joakal asked.

  “She has disappeared. No one has seen her in weeks.”

  She’s gone to the temple, Joakal thought. Beahoram won’t have her after all.

  The Elder had turned back around and was almost out the door. Joakal called to him again.

  “Tell me why, Aklier. I thought you were my frie
nd. I trusted you.”

  Once more the Elder turned to face the King, his eyes studying the haggard face.

  “She would have been only two years older than you,” he said softly.

  “Who?”

  “My daughter.”

  “Your daughter? Aklier, I don’t understand. You don’t have a daughter.”

  “You don’t understand.” Aklier’s voice grew harsh and his eyes went cold as he spoke from that realm between anger and pain. “Beahoram is right. There is too much you don’t understand about the lives of your people. Let me explain. Once my wife and I had a daughter, our only child. But she was born deaf and blind. By the law she was imperfect. Abnormal.” Aklier nearly choked on the word. “The law said she could not live. I’m an Elder, a servant of the law. I had to leave my only child at the temple, knowing it meant her death. My wife, who had longed for a large family, refused to risk another child that way. The grief of it killed her. She wasted away, eaten up by the loss and longing. Beahoram understands. He understands in a way no one else on this world can, and he has promised that once he is Absolute, he’ll do away with that law. To see that happen, I will do anything—even betray you.”

  “Aklier,” Joakal said, “it’s not too late. I was going to abolish that law, it and others like it. That’s why I asked the Federation to come to Capulon—to help me make these changes. Beahoram is going to send them away. Aklier, listen to me.”

  Aklier looked slowly around the cell, then brought his eyes back to the King’s face. “How can I believe you?” he said. “You’d say anything to get out of here.”

  Aklier turned abruptly and left, pulling the cell door closed behind him. As the lock mechanism clicked into place, Joakal slid slowly back to the floor.

  Chapter Twelve

  BY THE TIME Troi returned to her quarters eighteen hours later, she was exhausted. They had been eighteen long and grueling hours, working with Mother Veronica and trying to cram the essence of eight days worth of lessons, the amount of time Troi had thought to have with the nun, down into one extended block of information. Nor was Troi confident it had done much good. Whatever Mother Veronica had seen during that brief contact with the King’s mind had reawakened all of her old fears of her psychic talents. It had been extremely difficult for Troi to establish and maintain the link necessary between herself and the nun.

  All Troi wanted now, as she went into the bathroom, changed into her favorite pink nightgown, and released her hair from its usual arrangement, was sleep: deep, refreshing, uninterrupted sleep.

  A few minutes later she crawled into her bed. As she stretched out under the cover, she felt the tension flowing out of her muscles. She gave a passing thought to the patients whose appointments she had been forced to cancel. Only Ensign Marshall was a worry.

  I’ll see if he can come for an appointment later today, Troi thought as she turned on her side and pulled the pillow more comfortably under her head. Then she remembered. I have to go with the captain today, she thought, down to the planet. Ensign Marshall will have to wait one more day. I’ll see him as soon as we return.

  Her thoughts were getting hazy. Warm, gentle darkness was spreading through her body and closing in on her mind. She slept.

  The sound of the captain’s voice pierced through Troi’s comfortable veil of slumber. “Picard to Counselor Troi,” he said.

  “Troi here,” she answered without opening her eyes.

  “Counselor, we have just entered orbit around Capulon IV. We will be beaming down to the surface in thirty minutes. Will you inform Mother Veronica?”

  “Yes, Captain,” Troi said automatically.

  “Very good. Picard out.”

  With a small groan, Troi opened her eyes and glanced at the chronometer. 15:37. Troi sat up and tried to clear the sleep from her brain. It’s only been six hours, she thought as still weary in mind and body, she rolled from her bed and went to splash some cold water on her face, hoping to find the energy for the duties ahead.

  “Computer, location of Mother Veronica?” Troi asked as she walked across the room.

  “Mother Veronica is in Stateroom sixteen D.”

  She’s in the chapel, Troi thought. I’ll give her five more minutes alone with her prayers and then I tell her. I hope she feels more ready for this than I do.

  Will Riker and Sister Julian accompanied Troi, Captain Picard, and Mother Veronica to the transporter room. While Troi and Picard stood on the platform and waited, Sister Julian bade Mother Veronica farewell with soft-spoken words of encouragement and a brief embrace. Troi hoped this show of affection would strengthen the nun through the forthcoming interview with the King.

  “Energize,” Picard said. Immediately the transporter beam locked on and the room dissolved in a curtain of kinetic molecular waves. A few heartbeats later, that curtain lifted and the three of them stood in a reception hall of the royal palace on Capulon IV. A few feet away, a delegation of Elders was waiting to greet them. As soon as the last lights of the transporter beam faded, one of the Elders stepped out from the group.

  “Welcome to our planet, Captain Picard,” he said as he touched three fingers of his right hand to the center of his forehead in salute. “I am Aklier of the House Ti’Kara. His Majesty, King Joakal, has sent us to escort you into his presence. If you will please follow me.”

  He’s not at all pleased to see us, Troi thought. He’s frightened that we’re here. She quickly let her empathic senses scan the other three Elders, but from them she received only mild interest and none of Aklier’s apprehension. She eyed the nervous Elder with interest. What is he hiding? she wondered.

  The Elders turned to lead the way through the palace. Picard walked beside them, but Troi hung back. She wanted to stay near Mother Veronica in case the nun’s reaction to the King was similar to what had happened yesterday on the bridge.

  Troi watched Mother Veronica closely as they left the reception room and walked down the long corridors of the palace, looking for the first signs of wavering in the nun’s control. But Mother Veronica did not spare Troi a glance. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead; her mouth was drawn into a tight line and her hand clutched the cross on her breast as if it were a talisman.

  Finally Troi looked around at her surroundings. Although she was used to living on a starship and having the galaxy displayed beyond the viewports, she found the size of the palace daunting. The corridor down which they were walking was lined with massive black wood doors, fifteen feet tall and ten feet across and carved with unfamiliar symbols. The walls were made from blocks of stone, as was the floor beneath her feet. Through the stone ran veins of a darker substance that shone with a pale green light and cast an eerie glow over the area that was not quite disguised by the white light that blazed from the chandeliers suspended from the ceiling.

  The ceilings themselves soared thirty feet above Troi’s head. She felt dwarfed by the dimensions and slightly awed by the aura of antiquity the palace exuded.

  The corridor ended in a set of double doors, where two servants waited. They were dressed all in black except for the predatory bird stitched in crimson and gold on the right front of their tunics. At their touch, the huge doors swung in silently, more easily than Troi thought possible. Behind the doors waited the audience chamber and the King.

  As she entered the chamber, Troi felt the immensity of the room overwhelm her. The ceilings were easily sixty feet tall, twice the height of those in the corridor, and the walls were four times that distance from one another. The very size of the room was oppressive. It was like entering a huge cavern. There were no windows to the outside, no flowers or pictures or brightly colored wall hangings, nothing to give a breath of freshness to the chamber. It gave Troi a headache and made her feel as if a weight was resting upon her chest.

  Troi forced herself to look at the man toward whom they were walking. He sat upon a throne carved from the same green stone as the walls and perched on top of a dais of five steps. As they approached, Troi could s
ee that the throne had been intricately carved in flowing geometric designs.

  The King did not move as they neared him. His face wore a smile that did not reach to his eyes or mask his darker emotions.

  He’s furious that we’re here, Troi thought as the King stood and walked down three of the five steps that raised his throne above the floor. Go carefully, Captain. He’s a dangerous man.

  “We were surprised, Captain,” the King began, “when your ship informed us that you were in orbit around Our planet. We did not expect you yet. Still, accept Our welcome.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” the captain answered. He returned the King’s smile, but to Troi the captain’s voice sounded guarded. She wondered if he also felt that there was something hidden behind the ruler’s words. “Please allow me to present one of my officers,” Picard continued. “This is Lieutenant Commander Deanna Troi.”

  Troi took a step forward and bowed to the King, noticing that the captain had chosen to use her rank rather than her professional designation.

  “And this is Mother Veronica, Leader of the Little Mothers, whom Your Majesty requested come to your planet.”

  Troi felt a jolt of surprise and alarm crash through the King. His eyes narrowed as he looked at them. He doesn’t remember sending for the Little Mothers, Troi thought. He doesn’t know who they are.

  Troi’s eyes shifted to Mother Veronica. The nun was still clutching the wood cross she wore, as she had been since they materialized on the planet. Her face was taut with concentration. Troi hoped all the work they had done together in the past weeks, and especially the last eighteen hours, was coming to fruition. She tried to sense the nun’s emotions, but Mother Veronica was closed to her.

  The King inclined his head slightly in their direction, then returned his attention to the captain. “Now, Captain Picard,” he said, “is there some reason you have chosen to arrive before the time previously arranged?”

  “There is, Your Majesty,” Picard replied. “In our last conversation, you expressed some doubts about the benefits of signing the treaty with the Federation. I took the liberty of arriving early so that we would have time to examine the treaty together and discuss your concerns.”